"'Mademoiselle, from the exact'--he used a word here that I have forgotten--'your yearly income amounts to the sum of three million one hundred and twenty thousand francs, which gives you nearly eight thousand francs a day, so you are the richest heiress in France.' "This, my poor dear mother, reminded me again of what, alas! I scarcely ever forget,--that I was an orphan, and alone in the world; and in spite of all my efforts to control my feelings, I wept bitterly." Ernestine was obliged to stop writing. Her tears had burst forth afresh, for to this tender-hearted, artless child, this rich inheritance meant the loss of her mother and of her father. Becoming calmer after a few moments, she resumed her pen, and continued: "It is difficult for me to explain it, but on learning that I had eight thousand francs a day, as the notary said, I felt a great awe, not unmixed with fear. "'So much money--just for myself! why is it?' I thought. "It seemed to me unjust. "What had I done to be so rich? "And then those words which had made me weep, 'You are the richest heiress in France,' almost terrified me. "Yes; I know not how to explain it, but the knowledge that I possessed this immense fortune made me feel strangely uneasy. It seemed to me that I must feel as people feel who have a great treasure, and who tremble at the thought of the dangers they will incur if any one tries to rob them of it. "And yet, no; this comparison is not a just one, for I never cared very much for the money you and my father gave me each month to gratify my fancies. "In fact, I seem unable to analyse my feelings when I think of my wealth, as they call it. It is strange and inexplicable, but perhaps I shall feel differently by and by. "In the meantime, I am surrounded by the kindest and most devoted of relatives. What can I have to fear? It is pure childishness on my part, undoubtedly. But to whom can I tell everything, if not to you? M. de la Rochaigue and the other members of his household are wonderfully kind to me, but I shall never make confidants of them. You know I have always been very reserved to every one but you and my father; and I often reproach myself for not being more familiar with my good Laine, who has been with me several years. But anything like familiarity is impossible to me, though I am far from being proud." Then alluding to the aversion she felt for M. de Maillefort, in consequence of Mlle. Helena's calumnies, Ernestine added: "I was cruelly hurt this evening, but it was such a disgraceful thing that, out of respect to you, my dear mother, I will not write it, nor do I really believe that I should have the courage.